These Lies We Tell
by Svetlana Morealt
Summary: With no memories of who he is, Chris is left to rebuild himself from scratch. His only companion is a burning sense of guilt, until a mysterious stranger comes into his life with a familiarity that he can't place. The man insists that he can give Chris his life back and help him remember. Chris takes the risk. Piers finds him later in the arms of a madman. WxC and Nivanfield.
1. Entrust Your Demons

**A/N: I don't think anyone has done something like this before? If they have, I apologize! I wanted to try another AU, and this little idea came to mind at random after going through pictures of Chris and Piers back in the bar scene while WxC was also on my mind. I thought it could be interesting to do it this way.**

* * *

Chris swirled the contents of his drink in hand, watching the small whirlpool that formed within the barrier of glass. Same old thing, same glances from the other patrons, same narrow to the eyes of the bartender each time she poured him another. This place, outside the small jobs he'd taken to keep money in his pocket, it had practically become his new home. He'd try to swallow away the unending guilt he didn't even remember the reason for having, and forget the last connection he had to the person he used to be.

Whoever _that_ had been.

The door opened somewhere in the background, but Chris didn't care. Another person who needed a release from their problems that they would undoubtedly find at the bottom of a bottle. Too bad it wouldn't last any longer for them than it ever did for him.

Foot falls came closer, and the last thing he expected was the sound of stretching leather as the stranger seated themselves down beside him. The movement gained a glance from Chris, who tensed his jaw and narrowed his eyes at the sight. Black. _All_ black, like a damn shadow that came crawling out of the night. Blond hair that was brushed back into place without a single loose strand, it was very well kept. Older features, undeniably handsome. _Perfect_. Sunglasses, an odd thing to keep on indoors. Yet even still, he looked far too good to be in a shithole like that... And for a passing moment, he almost seemed familiar. Chris snorted and looked away, allowing his head to complete a small shake as his eyes fell back to his glass.

"You've become quite the mess," Now the guy actually had the nerve to speak to him directly. Chris didn't bother to turn his head again at that as he downed the rest of his drink. Despite Chris visibly possessing no desire to talk, the man continued, "Dare I question your reasoning?" The guy was playing with him, and Chris tightened his grip over the now empty glass in his hand. "Alone and defeated. How uncharacteristic of you." Chris was prepared to turn around and knock the blond out the more he flapped those lips... Until the words sunk in, confusing him. "My, you're sinking into bad habits, Christopher."

_That_, right there.

It was enough for Chris to finally offer another look toward the older man. His features didn't soften any, "You know me?"

There was a quirk from the corner of the blond's mouth as it edged into a half-smirk, "Quite well."

Chris seemed to hesitate at that, brown eyes stared curiously at the mystery man. "I don't remember you," It was honest, and Chris set his empty glass down on the counter. "Why don't you go back the way you came?" He wasn't in any mood to deal with someone else's problems.

"Of course," The blond replied, and Chris hadn't expected that. Or at least he _wouldn't_ have, if the man didn't continue. "But I do believe it would be in your best interests to join me."

Chris exhaled, nostrils flaring as he twisted himself on the stool to face to the older man more directly with a heated gaze. "I don't know who the hell you are, and I don't _care_." He raised an accusing finger to point it at the blond, "I have my own problems. I don't need to share yours, too." To anyone else, his demeanor would have appeared threatening.

Instead, there was a curious hum from the blond. He was unfazed, still just as stoic with features as flawless as ever. "And if I was to say that I could assist you in remembering?" He offered, making Chris pause to think about what he'd just heard. After a few moments of silence, the man was back on his feet again and prepared to walk, potentially taking the key to unlocking Chris' memory with him. "Stay if you prefer, Christopher, but I doubt another offer such as this will openly present itself with ease." That said, the blond had turned and begun to walk toward the exit that would have them part ways for what could have been forever.

Chris watched him, a mixture of confusion, hope, and the will to know more shown visibly in his eyes. He had come there to forget the guilt, to move on and drink away his problems. But a chance to clear all of it up... To remember and fix everything, it was tempting. He hesitated, gazing at the door as it opened and slid closed, concealing the blond from view and successfully placing a barrier between them. A part of him didn't want to go, didn't want to know about the man he used to be. Yet, his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of losing his only chance to find his way, to potentially be someone better.

Damn it all to hell.

Chris practically jumped off the stool and ran after the man on nearly unsteady legs that could barely support him. The door was thrown open with more force than necessary as he dived outside, brown eyes darting from corner to corner in search of the mystery man.

"Changed your mind?" The familiar voice called from behind him, causing Chris to swing himself around and nearly lose his balance. The blond was quick, how did he-? It didn't matter. Chris just wanted to leave. He wanted to find his way back home, wherever that was. So, he nodded. Brief, small. Enough indication to the older man to notify him that he had the affirmative, "Yeah." It was practically a mumble, but the blond brushed by him with a motion for him to follow. He seemed satisfied with the decision as Chris found himself led to a vehicle. He climbed in without a word, hoping that he'd made the right choice.

As the blond seated himself in the driver's chair, Chris glanced in his direction. "Your name," He'd said, causing the man to turn his head toward him. "I don't recall it. Assuming that I actually do know you and this isn't some deliberate plot to lock me away for something."

The smirk was back in place over older features, "Albert Wesker." He revealed, and it was enough for Chris to avert his gaze with a small sense of satisfaction. "What gives you the belief that someone would imprison you?" It was his turn to be curious.

Chris gave a small shrug as he leaned his head against the glass window. "Got enough guilt in mind that it wouldn't be surprising if I killed somebody," He admitted with a frown, eyes staring at nothing in particular as the vehicle was started and they began to drive away. Wesker had gone quiet after that, and Chris was thankful for it.

Brown eyes slid themselves closed, where all his senses had to pick up were the soft sounds from the engine, and the gentle vibrations against the side of his face that rested against the glass barrier. Chris wasn't sure how much time had past them by before his head lulled to the back of his chair, and the world faded away into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Six months. Six months of endless searching, and they'd gotten so damn close. Piers had actually been able to get solid proof of where Chris had been, but by the time they got there, he was already gone. The soldiers from Alpha scrambled around the tables, waiting for further instructions as Piers paced back and forth off to the side, phone pressed tight to his ear while talking to someone back at the base.

Six _months_.

Chris had left the bar within that very hour.

Piers was resisting the urge to tear the cell from his ear and throw it into a damn wall from the frustration. He'd been so determined, so hopeful. Then reality came crashing down and ruined everything. As far as they knew from the witnesses, Chris had left with some other man. Shady, mysterious. None of them had ever seen him before, and they didn't get much of a description either. The people there weren't all that helpful.

When Piers had finally hung up, he collapsed into a chair next to the rest of the unit with a heavy sigh.

_Damn it, Chris. Where are you?_

Hard, staggering steps made their way over, and hazel eyes lifted to one of the patrons. Rugged like every other drunkard in there, but he was new. He must have just come in from somewhere outside. "You one of them soldier boys askin' all them questions 'bout the stray dog?" Rough and hoarse, as expected. The guy was already drunk off his ass. But he mentioned 'the stray dog', that's what the bartender and several other patrons referred to Chris as before. Piers straightened up as the man continued, even without much of a response, "Well, if ya are... That blond fella he left with. Never seen 'im before. Gave me a bit of a creep." Blond? Well, it was more descriptive than what the other drunkards had offered up. All they ever said was that, 'he left with a man in black'. Piers pushed him for more, "Did you hear anything they were talking about?"

The man shuffled uncomfortably, "He was claimin' he knew yer friend. Offered to help 'im remember. Mmm, didn't like the sound of it when I heard so I up and left. Saw 'em leave together while I was standin' outside." Help him remember...? No one else was looking for Chris, at least not that Piers had known about. The ace felt his brow furrow as he took in the information, trying to decipher what the hell any of it could mean, or if the man who told him it was even accurate about the details.

The drunk patron was mumbling further, rambling on to no one in particular now as he shook his head. "Blondie was a strange fella with them sunglasses. Never took 'em off, even inside."

Wait.

"What did you just say?" The guy damn well better believe he had the sniper's attention now. Piers pushed himself to his feet, gaze leveled on the unknown patron. The scent of booze was still thick in the air, especially now while at a closer height to the stranger, but what he'd said... If Piers had heard him right-

"Mm?" The drunkard blinked, wobbly on his feet with raised eyebrows. "Oh, blondie. Creepy. Sunglasses inside, long coat-" That was it. That was all Piers needed to confirm it. "Thanks," He'd cut in before the man could even finish, and practically sprinted out the door while his fingers tapped over his phone in a hurried mess. The conversation was better off being kept private, even from his own unit. He stepped into a side alley and the impatience was killing him as the phone rang at least four times before it was picked up.

"Hello?" Good, she was there.

"Jill," Piers greeted her by name, he had no desire to drag things out with pleasantries as he continued immediately, "Is there any way that Wesker could have survived Africa?" The words came out in a rush, desperate, determined. _Worried_.

Jill had to take a moment to register what he'd said, while not sure why he even had in the first place. "Piers, what are you-"

"Just answer the question," Piers cringed at the sound of his own voice. He hadn't meant to snap at her like that. "I'm sorry, it's just... I need to know if it's possible."

There was a pause, "Why are you asking this? He was shot with two rockets while in a volcano, I don't think anyone could have survived that."

Piers leaned back into the brick wall behind him with his head tilted at an angle to rest against the surface as his eyes shut closed. "One of the patrons said they saw Chris leave with a blond man in solid black, who wore sunglasses that he refused to take off, even indoors. The guy said said that the man claimed to know Chris and offered to help him remember. It's too specific to be just a coincidence."

Piers heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line. "You don't think..."

"If it was Wesker, he got to Chris before we could. There's no telling what he'll try to convince him to do."

A silence drifted between them after that, a shared realization. If the information was accurate... Chris would be in more trouble than either of them could ever imagine possible. The tyrant would have plans, and the broken Captain would be caught up in the middle of them.


	2. You'll Never Know

**A/N: Not everything is what it seems... P: Very, very minor adult themes due to a certain part, nothing too serious.**

* * *

Chris shifted in place as he slowly came to, feeling much more comfortable than he had previously before he dozed, aside from the killer headache that pounded up a storm in his skull. Brown eyes fluttered open to fullness where they blinked once, then twice, to clear themselves. He was no longer in the car, but laying on top of a soft mattress. He didn't remember waking up to move there...

Chris frowned as he sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed so that he could scan the room from a better angle. It was nice and of a good size, but nothing _too_ overly fancy. There was a small dresser near the headboard and a few shelves lined up against one of the walls to the side, with a chair nearby it. There was a door at other side of the room which was open, and it led into some kind of small office. There were two other doors, one several feet from the end of the bed which he presumed led to the main room or some sort of hallway. It was currently closed, whereas the other was only slightly ajar and partially dark, but he could tell it was a bathroom from the shadowed white tile along the walls and floor.

Chris exhaled, wondering more and more why he had agreed to go with the blond, and where the hell he'd even taken him.

"You've been asleep for quite some time," Chris turned at the voice, catching Wesker in the doorway to the office. He hadn't been there a moment ago... He was certainly fast, _and_ quiet. Almost eerily so. His coat was missing, placed over the chair at the desk in the other room. Yet, the sunglasses remained. Chris hadn't realized until then just how strange that was, although he couldn't find the will or the strength to dwell too much on it. He was there to discover who he used to be, not find out about someone else's life other than his own. The blond could do whatever he wanted.

Chris eyed the older man, "When did we get here? I don't remember leaving the car." He leaned forward with his hands raised to his temples, trying to massage away the throbbing ache there.

"Late last night. You've only just now woken up," The blond took several steps closer until he was hovering near Chris' side. The younger of the two frowned as he did, wondering how the hell he ended up in the bedroom when he was anything but light. With the pounding in his head stealing away most of his thought process, the curiosity was quick to die as Chris pinched the bridge of his nose to try and calm the sensation. Wesker had yet to say anything further, and Chris felt eyes on him from behind those tinted shades. The brunet allowed his hand to fall away as brown eyes swung back up to the blond, recalling the reason why he was even there to begin with. "You said you could help me remember. I don't see you giving that much effort." His head wracked up a storm and it made him irritated.

Wesker held out a hand with a book residing within. Chris eyed it with a furrow to his brow that deepened the ache in his head. It looked more like an album than anything, and Chris reached out to take it. "From long before now," Wesker explained as Chris opened it, and he was met with several pictures of some kind of... Police unit? He was there among them, and hardly even recognized himself given how much smaller and younger he'd been at the time they were taken. He was also more... _Happy_. There were faces and names alongside his own that he couldn't remember, none of them bore any familiarity as Chris flipped through the pages. There were several with himself and Wesker, the only two he could place names on and that was only because of what the blond had told him so far. They were both much younger, yet even then Wesker had shielded his eyes away from view.

"So you see, we've been acquainted for some time." Chris glanced up at the voice, and Wesker settled himself into a sit beside him. It was true enough, if the pictures were real. "This doesn't exactly help me remember," Chris complained, and Wesker made a small motion back toward the book. "Perhaps not. At the very least, it should confirm my honesty. There are more photos near the end that I believe will interest you, should you wish to know our relationship." The brunet raised an eyebrow at that, watching the blond for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the page and flipped it. There were more pictures of this... This _S.T.A.R.S._ unit, and still he had yet to recognize any of their faces. But more and more, Wesker's had slowly started to become a familiar thing, as though his mind was trying to process that he did in fact know the blond from years prior.

A few pages later, and the album nearly fell out of his grip. There were pictures of him and Wesker that went beyond the border of teammates, straight into what would have been considered unprofessional in a workplace. Chris found himself staring at each one for a lengthened period of time, as though unsure of what he was seeing. One image had him sitting atop Wesker's lap, an arm woven around powerful shoulders with a visible smile over his lips. Wesker was as stoic as ever, but Chris could see his own arm coiled around the waist of his younger self. Another had Wesker on the couch reading a file, with Chris' head laying in his lap, eyes closed and resting. At peace in a light sleep. He'd looked so content there. A third... Was much more erotic, with Chris laying sprawled over a mattress on his back, legs wrapped around Wesker's waist as his arm was thrown over his own mouth, no doubt to stifle the sound of his moans. Both of them were fully nude, wrapped up in one another. The look on his own face was that of bliss.

Chris slammed the album closed, eyes wider than usual as he stared down at the blank cover. He and Wesker...? But those photos were from a long time ago. "So we..." Chris paused, debating on his words even as refused to raise his gaze back to the older man. "Are we still-" He caught himself, "_Were_ we still... Whatever that was?" It would explain how Wesker was the only one who had came for him... The only person to find him and offer him a way out of that shithole life he had built for himself and back to his own. A gloved hand reached to cup him under the chin, forcing brown eyes to seek out tinted lenses as his head was tilted toward the blond. "You've always belonged to me, Christopher." Something in the way that he'd spoken those words had a tingle running down Chris' spine. Wesker had already breathed an aura of dominance, and the words only sought to intensify the feeling. "I came back to remind you of that." Those gloved fingers were still in place, keeping his head rooted on the spot in a powerful grip that seemed almost abnormal.

It seemed to awake something inside of Chris, staring into black lenses as Wesker clutched his hold over him. Chris wasn't sure what it was that he felt, a mixture of paranoia and excitement rolled into one in an odd combination. He couldn't even begin to understand it. Just what were they, really? A second hand rose to tousle through his hair, pausing only when it reached the back of his head.

If Wesker had so wished it, one quick twist and that lovely neck would have been snapped. All the trouble Chris had brought, all the annoying problems he spread out over his plans in layers. There would be no more delays, no more hindrances.

No more Chris.

But, that _wasn't_ what Wesker had wanted. No... He had already set his new plans in motion, and Chris was all his as of recent events. Just as it should be.

Finally with a sense of confidence, Wesker dropped his hands away and rose back to his feet in an instant before Chris was given the chance to react. "There are similar albums along the shelves of that office. Observe them to your liking if you believe it will aid your memory."

Chris eyed him as he started to step away, "Albert," He called after the blond, causing Wesker to pause and turn his head.

"Wesker, preferably." He corrected, and Chris frowned in confusion. If they were... If they had something, why did Wesker prefer his surname over his real one from someone who could have been considered a lover?

Chris nearly cringed at the thought, and he wasn't sure why.

"Whatever," He supposed he could go with it, "_Wesker_..." The name felt oddly familiar on his tongue. Yet, one question had remained unanswered. "...Who am I?" The brunet asked with a suddenness. For six months, the only link that Chris had shared with his previous life was the guilt. He was a lost soul, rummaging around in the darkness in search for a way to live. Wesker was the only one there with an outstretched hand, ready to lift him back to his feet and bring him home.

Wesker turned fully at that, watching the younger man from behind dark glasses. "Christopher Redfield," He started with the name, and even it was unknown and unrecognized to the brunet's ears. "You've been working under my orders for over fifteen years." Wesker told him, weaving the delicate little lie into the oblivious soldier, where it nestled itself in deep. "Six months ago, there was an incident with a B.O.W. outbreak. You were sent in with the intention of eliminating them, but received an injury that left you without memory."

Chris seemed to consider the information. His brow furrowed itself again as it all sunk in, "B.O.W.s are...?"

"Bio-organic weapons, created through the injection of a virus that mutates its host. There are many types, but this one in particular is the C-Virus. It's also what killed your previous unit, and left you with the sense of guilt you can't seem to escape." Wesker explained further, "Come with me." He turned back around and started on a path into the office, leaving Chris to stare after him in confusion. He had no idea what he'd gotten himself into. Reluctantly and still unsure, the brunet rose from his position at the side of the bed and followed after Wesker, who had started to shuffle through a drawer of the desk. He pulled out more pictures, a hand full of images that he laid out over the surface of the furniture so that Chris could see.

They looked like... _Monsters_. Hideous, deformed creatures like something straight out of a nightmare. Some were large with armored skin, others were more bug-like with mutated limbs and multiple eyes. Chris wasn't sure what to make of them. "These things... _These_ are B.O.W.s?" He couldn't believe what he saw. Wesker gave a single nod as an affirmative, which Chris had only barely caught in his peripheral vision. "And these used to be people..." It was terrifying to see what they'd become, to think that each of them had once been normal human souls now trapped in the embodiment of grotesque monsters. "Correct," Wesker confirmed. Chris swallowed, and brown eyes lifted to return to the blond. "Who did this?"

Wesker leaned back toward the drawer to pick up another photo, "I believe it was this man. We had been after him for some time... However, it would appear as though he was more elusive than first presumed." He handed the image to Chris, who eyed it with a narrowed gaze. A demon with the face of an angel, "Who is he?"

Such a perfect question to finish the lie. Wesker didn't hesitate to give him his answer, "Piers Nivans."

Yes, the bothersome sniper. For there was no greater victory over an enemy, than to turn his allies in on himself.


End file.
